


Hello From The Other Side

by TheSilverQueen



Category: Blood and Chocolate (2007), Death Stranding (Video Games), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: #RareMeat, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Spoilers, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverQueen/pseuds/TheSilverQueen
Summary: When Captain Clifford Unger is recruited as a porter for Bridges in the wake of the Death Stranding, he's given a lot of equipment, including a bridge baby that he's assured is nothing more than brain-dead, mindless doll floating in a pod. He would have taken them at their word - but for the fact that when he connects to the bridge baby, he finds out that Aiden is very much alive, very much has a mind, and is very much more than simply a doll-like human baby. And, oh, the things Aiden has to say . . .Warning: This story does contain SPOILERS for the Death Stranding video game.
Relationships: Aiden (Blood and Chocolate)/Clifford Unger
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49
Collections: MonthlyRareMeat





	Hello From The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to [#RareMeat Cliff Week](https://twitter.com/RareMeat_/status/1198667969284517894)! 
> 
> This story does contain SPOILERS for the Death Stranding game. However, I imagined, outlined, and partially wrote this story when the [final 7-8 minute trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-hyFSivSmw) dropped, so plotwise this story is almost entirely its own beast. Most of it is completely non-canon compliant with the game. I say this not to encourage people to read it if they don't want spoilers, but more to warn people who do know the plot that like 25% is canon compliant and the rest is just . . . my messed up mind. 
> 
> I also want to give a huge shout out to IDFYTI, because their Death Stranding resources guide (particularly [the glossary](https://twitter.com/IDFYTI/status/1199393774587252741)) was AMAZING and really helped.
> 
> Warnings: mild discussion of government experimentation (dissection, torture, burning things alive) and also people die (but it's Death Stranding repatriate style so they come back)
> 
> Inspirations: Death Stranding, Blood and Chocolate, and Adele's "Hello" (because I found it funny to think of BTs being like HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDE Y'ALL)

**Death Stranding** (noun): _An event that disrupted the boundaries between life and death, initially manifesting in simultaneous massive explosions and now most associated with the existence of the Beach, the place between the world of the living and the world of the afterlife_

* * *

**Porter** (noun): _Freelance contractors who are commissioned to accept orders and transport deliveries across the continent_

To say that Clifford Unger isn’t expecting the call would be a massive understatement. He was expecting _a_ call, certainly; communication nowadays is rather patchy and unreliable, but what he’s been hearing is that many of his old colleagues and comrades are getting called up for service again. With so many places lost to the explosions and the voidouts, and the remaining places scrambling to collect supplies, build sanctuaries, and establish hierarchies, it’s no surprise that people are turning to military personnel to help keep order.

And it’s not that Cliff had enjoyed being sent into battle by the brass, but he’d been a good captain, and if he had been called into service again to fulfill that role, he would have done so gladly.

Instead, they want him to be a porter.

“Are you disappointed?” the Director asks coolly, hands folded neatly over her lap. She’s introduced herself as the head of Bridges, a hastily put together department for the country that is tasked with reconnecting all of the fractured little towns and cities.

Cliff straightens. “No, ma’am. I am happy to serve our country in any capacity. Merely surprised.”

“I’m sure you are. But we have many fine men and women who are already acting as security or teachers or bodyguards; what we need now are _smart_ men and women to act as our explorers, our transporters, our eyes and ears in the field. And I’ve heard that you are very smart, Captain Unger.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do. I think you know as well as I do that without supplies and recon, any expedition west is doomed before it begins. We need capable soldiers like yourself who can venture forward to spread the word, transport supplies, and observe what it is happening. And, of course, report back to base without going mad or dying on us. Any questions?”

“Who am I reporting to?”

The Director sighs. A mask covers most of her face, so it’s very hard to read her, but Cliff can still see the stress lines in her forward and hear the tiredness in her voice. She was probably minding her own business, working in another department she loved, when the Death Stranding happened and half of the people in government died and the other half scrambled to cover all the things that needed to be done. Bridges – and her role – was probably born with a hasty promotion, a quick briefing of the mission, and then a swift kick out of the door to get started with a limited budget and ticking deadline.

Cliff knows what that’s like.

“There hasn’t been a formal hierarchy established, I’m afraid. There simply aren’t enough porters who’ve agreed to enter into a contract for us. For now, you’ll retain your title as Captain, and everything will go through the Commander. I trust you’re mature enough to figure out who to listen to beyond that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you’re dismissed, Captain. I hope to hear more good things about you.”

* * *

**Cufflinks** (noun): _A piece of standard equipment worn by Bridges operatives, utilized for tracking cargo and accessing equipment, storing maps and messages, and monitoring vitals and logs_

The Commander is another man who wears a mask. Cliff wonders briefly is this is protocol, but then the man apologizes and explains that the mask covers a burn on his face, so perhaps not. Either way, his salute is practiced, his handshake is firm, and his tone is knowledgeable, so Cliff settles in to listen to what he has to say.

“I’m glad you’ve come aboard, Captain,” the Commander says. “More military personnel than we originally predicted chose to refuse to enter contract with us, either to work in security or to disavow working with the government altogether. We need more men like you.”

“I like a challenge,” Cliff replies mildly. “And I’ve always had a thought about going across the country.”

“We’re hoping for that.”

The Commander lifts his hand and flicks his wrist. A bright blue band on his wrist lights up briefly in acknowledgement, and then a drawer pops open, revealing a set of handcuffs. Although when the Commander brings them out and Cliff gets a closer look, he realizes that “handcuffs” isn’t quite accurate.

The cuffs are linked like handcuffs, but one side is made out of a material that shimmers a dull, spotted golden under the light and the other side is a thick band like an electronic bracelet.

“These are cufflinks,” the Commander explains. “Every operative of Bridges wears it. It signifies your employment with us, and it allows us to communicate with you as well as acting as your security badge to enter Bridges facilities. It can’t be removed unless you terminate your position with us.”

Cliff looks up at that. He’d assumed the cufflinks acted as more high tech versions of dog tags and radios, but that last bit is new. If he can’t remove them, then he’ll be constantly under surveillance. 

Then again, it’s a lot more dangerous to wander around the country now, and Bridges is going to having him move very valuable and possibly very dangerous cargo. Perhaps it’s not as surprising that they would want to put a tracker on him that he can’t remove to protect against him going AWOL and ensure that he fulfilling their orders exactly as they tell him to.

Or to ensure that if he dies, they can figure out where his cargo is.

Cliff holds out his wrist. What’s the worst that can happen from wearing a monitoring and communication device 24/7?

The Commander sounds pleased when he says, “Then Bridges hereby enters into a contract with Captain Clifford Unger.” He snaps the cufflinks around Cliff’s wrist, a surprisingly heavy weight, and then he shakes his hand. “Welcome to Bridges.”

* * *

**Bridge baby** (noun): _A slang term for a piece of standard Bridges equipment, utilized for detecting beached things, chiralium, and other manifestations of the Death Stranding_

The Commander brings him to a lab filled with equipment. He departs, saying, “Cheeseman will outfit you with equipment. After that, rest and prepare in your private room, and tomorrow the work will begin.”

Given that, Cliff shouldn’t really be surprised when Cheeseman comes into view and he’s hit with the strongest scent of cheese, cheese, and more cheese.

“Uh, hi,” Cheeseman says meekly, mopping at his sopping brow with a tissue. He’s dressed in an ill-fitting jumpsuit, but he also has a suit jacket over that and a bright yellow tie, all dotted with grease stains and dirt spots from his work. “The Commander said someone might be stopping by. You must be, uh, the Captain. Captain Unger!”

“That’s me.”

“I’m Franklyn – I mean, Cheeseman. Sorry, I kept forgetting that we tend to use titles here now.”

Given that Cheeseman is still sweating bullets and is now wringing his hands together, Cliff sighs and decides to throw the man a bone. “The Commander said you’d be able to outfit me with everything I need?”

“Oh, yes!” 

Reminded of his purpose, Cheeseman scurries over to a series of cabinets. He starts pulling things out to lay them on the table. As he goes, he names each article and explains them.

“Jumpsuit, of course, with boots to protect your clothes. Canteen, to be filled with Monster energy drinks to keep up your stamina and energy. Otter hood, for protecting your head from Timefall and any rivers you may need to cross. Mask and goggles to protect your face. Um, cryptobiotes container – it’s empty because they work best to replenish your blood when they’re fresh and alive, but you can restock at any Bridges center. Chiral pod, to be filled with any chiralium you come across. Pouch, for any memory chips you might pick up on the way. Odradek, to scan the terrain and to scan for any cargo. Any questions?”

Cliff, halfway through putting on the jumpsuit, doesn’t respond. The jumpsuit feels a little strange over his clothes, but he can see the wisdom in having protective clothing that covers everything from head to toe. There are also plenty of places to attach cargo, but two fasteners seem out of place.

He indicates the one on his right shoulder. “What goes here?”

“Odradek, it’ll help scan the terrain so you can pick the easiest paths to traverse. Oh, and you might also find cargo that someone else dropped.”

Cliff foresees that happening a lot in his future. _Hey, if you’re already going to Base A, why you pick up this and that and this as well. Oh, and stop at Base C since it’s on the way and they haven’t checked in with us in a while._

“And this?” he asks, looking at strange triangle with straps that’s directly on his chest.

“That’s for your, uh, your bridge baby.”

Cliff pauses, rewinds, and then slowly looks up. Cheeseman is still sweating, but his facial expression is just as earnest as his voice. He’s being serious, even if Cliff can’t tell if someone is playing a joke on him or has simply played a joke on Cheeseman that is now being inflicted on him.

“Bridge baby?” Cliff repeats slowly.

Cheeseman turns bright red. “Oh, dear me, um, I meant – uh – that is to say – that’s not really what they’re called, we, uh, just – you know, work here for long enough and sometimes everyone starts using a nickname – and by everyone I mean me, since I’m the only one here in the lab right now – but please don’t tell the Commander! We aren’t supposed to use that nickname. I’ll uh, I’ll get you your unit right now.”

And then he scrambles off, leaving Cliff staring after him with still no idea what a bridge baby is or what it’s officially called.

Five minutes later, he’s back, and it turns out a “bridge baby” is actually a baby – or something that looks very much like a baby, cocooned in a transparent orange pod and connected to a sensor by a thick umbilical cord. It doesn’t react at all when Cheeseman hands it to him, merely floating quietly in the liquid around it.

“It goes on your chest, and it’s designed to detect manifestations of the Death Stranding,” Cheeseman explains. “It’ll send distress signals, as it were, to the monitor, which will communicate with your cufflinks to mark out areas you shouldn’t go near.”

“Distress signals? So it’s alive?”

“What? No. It’s just a finely tuned and programmed piece of equipment. Think of it as – as a doll with very advanced sensors.”

“If it’s a doll, why is it in the pod?” 

“The liquid heightens the range of its sensors and keeps it from malfunctioning,” Cheeseman answers promptly, like he’s reading from a manual. “We’ve found they tend to last longer with the liquid – not that they last very long to begin with. Most cease to function after a year or so, and sometimes less if they’re used a lot. Which you might, given where you’re heading. But don’t worry! The cufflinks will let us know when yours is getting close to its expiration and we’ll arrange for a new one and dispose of this one.”

It sounds very above board, but Cliff’s been in the military long enough to understand when he isn’t being given the whole story. Maybe the brass wants him to think of this bridge baby as just a doll, but Cliff has eyes – he can see that those bubbles are appearing when the baby’s chest moves.

Whatever it is, it breathes. It’s alive.

So Cliff merely says, “So is that it? Do I have everything I need?”

Cheeseman looks him over, biting down on one lip as he counts off an imaginary checklist in his head finger by finger. Finally he nods. “Yep, that’s everything I have to give you. You’re all set, Captain. Good luck.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than Cliff’s cufflinks light up and a tinny three-tone emanates from it.

Cliff raises his wrist towards his head. “Captain Unger here. Go.”

“Captain Unger, it’s the Commander. I am sorry for the interruption, but I’m afraid that we have an urgent delivery that just came up for medical supplies. There’s been a voidout and survivors are fleeing to the nearest city. We need you to deliver the supplies and we can’t wait until your scheduled start date.”

It’s a test as much as an order. Good thing Cliff’s always been good at delivering on orders.

“Understood,” Cliff says. “I’ll report to the terminal immediately.”

“Excellent. I’ve put in the orders to allow you to restock your canteen and your cryptobiote container. Check the terminal for order details.”

Cliff nods to Cheeseman, who gives him a nervous wave, and strides to the door. The cufflinks indicate a map to the nearest terminal, and in no time at all, Cliff is downloading the details after a quick stop by the lab to stock up on Monster energy and cryptobiotes. Once he confirms his identify and accepts the order, the package arrives via the conveyor belt and Cliff shoulders it onto his back and locks it into place. Then he ensures all of his gear is fastened or buckled into place.

And then, just like that, he’s heading out to deliver his first Bridges order.

* * *

**Beached things** (noun): _Also known as BTs, these are among the most dangerous manifestations of the Death Stranding, as they are humanoid shaped figures that attack the living_

The sanctuary where most of the survivors are fleeing isn’t that far from Bridges HQ, and so Cliff receives a directive to do some recon on the crater that used to be the city in between Bridges HQ and the sanctuary. It’s on the way, and he’s told he really only needs to walk around or near it so that his cufflinks can record data and send it back to HQ, so he just follows the path outlined in his map.

The crater left behind by the voidout is _massive_. Cliff’s glad he isn’t ordered to jump inside, because he’s pretty sure he’d never be able to get back out in time to deliver the supplies – if he delivered them at all.

The cufflinks come online as he takes a break to gape at just how large it is.

“Captain Unger. Clifford. Anyone there?”

“I’m here, go.”

“It’s Beverly. Well, you’re supposed to call me Velvet, but I think codenames are ridiculous, so please don’t call me that.”

Cliff barely resists the urge to ask how she had acquired such a codename, but somehow he manages. “How can I be of assistance, Miss Beverly?”

“Oooh, a gentleman. We don’t get many of those around her,” she teases. Then her tone turns serious and businesslike. “I’m going to be the one reviewing the data you collect, or giving you directives on where or how to gather more data. The more we can understand about what causes voidouts and Timefall, the better we might understand the Death Stranding.”

Cliff exhales heavily. He’s not thrilled about the idea of being used as a live data gatherer, but he understands why he’s being asked. “You getting anything interesting off of the data from this voidout?”

“Actually, yeah – that’s why I called. Most porters are too chicken to get so close, so thanks for having thick skin. Based on the readings from your BB and your cufflinks, I’m thinking there was some BT activity before the voidout. Like, seconds before the voidout. That theory that the two are connected might actually carry some weight.”

“I thought that was disproved.”

“Sure it was. For dead bodies,” Beverly says cheerfully. “Nothing happened when a BT came into contact with a dead body. But you know what was in this city? Lots and lots of _alive_ bodies. And then we add BTs to the mix, and now look – no city. That’s the same as what happened in Manhattan – lots of alive people, then BT activity, and then boom, no people, no city, and a giant gaping crater.”

When the Manhattan had imploded, Cliff had seen a lot of theories. But the official word had been that terrorists had caused an explosion, and even after the Death Stranding had been acknowledged, it had been strictly maintained that terrorists had brought down Manhattan. The Death Stranding was only a minor inconvenience, after all. Then Timefall had come, and beached things, and voidouts, and chiralium, and the Death Stranding had become a major inconvenience. Yet the government had strictly maintained that Manhattan was not counted among those events, and none of the victims’ names had been added to the rolls of the Death Stranding memorial.

Cliff had known it was a lie even before the Death Stranding began to truly manifest.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Beverly observes.

“Hard to believe it was the work of terrorists after the rain started falling, and people and buildings found themselves ten years older,” Cliff replies.

“Oh yeah. It was just as hard to make the government acknowledge Timefall. It wasn’t until planes started rusting that they believed us. But now thanks to you, I have evidence for the cause of voidouts that they can’t ignore.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“One more thing, Captain – I’m still reading BT activity in your area. Be careful, okay? We don’t need a second voidout.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cliff replies, and sets off.

* * *

He’s attacked just as he’s crossing under an overpass. It’s so dark under there that he didn’t see any signs of danger, and he chose to go under because climbing over it would have taken gear he doesn’t have and going around it would have taken time he doesn’t have. 

Five steps in, and he’s yanked to his knees.

At first, he assumes it’s just some poor desperate soul who realized he was carrying something valuable, but then when he starts to sink into the formerly solid road and his Odradek lights up to shine a bright orange light around him, he understands just what he’s landed himself into.

There are no guides about what to do when beached things attack. There aren’t many survivors, after all, and the few that do survive don’t tend to be sane enough to explain how.

Kicking at them is like kicking water – it’s hard and has little effect to make them go away. Crawling backwards or forwards is impossible, since he’s surrounded on all sides. And Bridges didn’t give him any weapons, probably assuming that his military training would be enough to fend off robbers.

When the beached things start grasping at his face and shoulders and he’s sunk to his waist, Cliff hooks his mask down and looks frantically for anything he might connect to in order to preserve his air. 

Unfortunately, there’s nothing but his bridge baby – his BB.

So Cliff grabs the end of the mask, fits it to the valve at the edge of the pod, and he prays.

It’s only after it connects that he realized that his BB’s eyes are wide open.

And then Cliff is thinking of nothing, because the pod’s liquid is streaming into his mask, and it is breathable but it _burns_ as it goes into his lungs. It burns so much that Cliff’s limbs react without his permission and he curls into a fetal ball of desperation, protecting his face and his chest and cradling his BB close like it’s an actual baby.

“I’m not really a baby, you know.”

Cliff’s eyes fly open. To his shock, he doesn’t appear to have moved an inch from where he was when the beached things first attacked. He’s lying in a fetal position now, for sure, but he’s resting on the hard and solid ground, the overpass above him and his heart doing its best to thump itself out of his chest.

When he sits up, he’s in for another shock: beached things are shifting in a circle around him, but at a distance, like he’s one end of a magnet and they’re another. They’re just . . . watching.

“They won’t hurt you. I told them to leave you alone.”

Cliff tries to ask, “Who said that?” Instead, he coughs, because at the last minute he remembers that it’s liquid flowing into his lungs now and not air, since he had attached his mask to his BB pod as a last minute act of desperation to maintain a connection with a supply of something breathable.

“Hush. There’s no need to scream. I can read your mind, and once our connection is solidified, you will be able to read mind.”

There’s a pause.

“That being said, the initial work of establishing a connection is done. You can remove your mask.”

Cliff tears off his mask and lays on the ground and pants. His heart is still racing, a pace fit to the frantic thoughts tearing through his brain. There’d been no warning that interaction with BTs could cause hallucinations, and Cliff resigns himself to a thorough health check when he gets to a Bridges base.

“I am _not_ a hallucination.”

“Then who or what are you?” Cliff rasps, pushing himself back to his feet.

There’s a faint thump against his chest. Cliff looks down, just in time to watch his BB do a little somersault in the pod and then swim up to press tiny hands against the top, eyes wide and lips curled into a tiny little smile.

“My name is Aiden,” the BB says. “And I just saved your life, because you are the first mind I’ve touched in a very, very long time, and I feel like keeping you.”

* * *

**Chiralium** (noun): _A dangerous chemical manifestation of the Death Stranding, it can cause poisoning symptoms including but not limited to anger, depression, and suicidal thoughts_

Aiden very considerately allows Cliff some time to regroup. And to get out from underneath the overpass. And away from the BTs, who melt away when Aiden swims up to the front of the pod and wags one of his little fingers in reprimand.

Eventually, though, Cliff is overcome with too many questions to hold back.

“What are you?”

“I am Aiden.”

“And you’re . . . alive?”

Aiden does another little somersault. He seems almost . . . smug. “I breathe, and I talk, and I think. What do you think?”

“Stop talking in riddles and answer me, goddamn it,” Cliff snarls. “Or I’ll take you out of that pod and turn you over to the scientists. I’m sure they’d love to know that their equipment actually talks.”

“Oh, they know,” Aiden says flippantly.

“What.”

“They. Know.” Aiden blows a spat of bubbles. “They put me in this pod because they know, in fact. It limits my communication with, well, anyone. It also hampers my ability to grow, or to feed, or to do anything that would be normal of my kind. All the while, your human government gathers data on us and then burns us alive to dispose of the evidence whenever we start to show any signs of rationale activity.”

And Cliff’s seen a lot and he’s harbored a lot of suspicions, but this is a step too far, even for him.

“Why should I believe you?”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Connect to my pod again, and I can show you.”

“So you can implant lies in my head?”

Aiden swims up to the top again. He looks cute and innocent and sweet, but his eyes are dark and wide and Cliff can see a lot of things inside of them. Pain, for one, something Cliff is intimately familiar with. Rage, which is also something he knows. But most of all he sees curiosity, powerful enough to match the curious beast roaming deep in Cliff’s belly.

“So I can show you my memories,” Aiden says. “We’ve got a mental bond now, which is why I can talk to you, but I can do more than talk. Let me show you, so that you may know the truth.”

“About you?’

“About who you serve,” Aiden says ominously.

So Cliff picks up his mask again and hooks it up, and when the liquid begins to flow, Cliff closes his eyes and opens his mouth and lets the liquid flow inside.

When he opens them, the world is tinted orange and strangely refracted.

 _The view from inside my prison,_ Aiden whispers, soft as silk as his mind slides against Cliff’s. _It’s limited, but sound travels well enough. And I think you’ll be very interested in what sounds come along._

There’s a _tap tap_ , and a woman comes into view. The Director, Cliff realizes from the mask. She leans in close and stares at Aiden, face warped by the pod’s lining.

“This one. Unit 32.”

Another figure comes into view – the Commander. “Are you sure? We’ve been getting increased brain activity off of that unit. Scientists were leaning towards marking it for disposal, actually.”

“Yes. The levels still aren’t high enough to indicate conscious thought, and now with the Captain on board, we have an opportunity to truly test these units and gather the data we need. They’ve given us the most useful data when they’re out and about in our world, but we need to know more, and now is the perfect opportunity. Simply set up an alert in the Captain’s cufflinks if activity goes into the zone of conscious thought, and we can recall him and give him a new unit.”

“The last porter who used this unit died. It might be defective.”

“She wasn’t a very good porter,” the Director says dismissively. “I think our Captain is made of sturdier stuff. Assign Unit 32 to Captain Unger, Commander. That’s an order.”

“As you wish.”

Teeth flash behind the Director’s mask – a smile, Cliff realizes. She leans in close again and pokes the pod, like one might poke a fish tank to provoke the inhabitants.

“Soon, we’ll know all of your secrets,” the Director says. “And then your world will be ours.”

Cliff blinks, and then the world slips from orange to blue. The real world, he realizes. He’s gone from leaning against the overpass wall to lying flat on his back, either from shock or because his mind had gone wandering into Aiden’s memories. And he can’t deny they’re memories – there is a distinct emotional undertone to them that feels _real_ , along with the sort of softened edge that comes with reviewing something in your mind.

“Do you believe me now?”

Cliff unfastens the BB pod and turns it around. Aiden has pressed his hands against the pod again, palms flattened a little from the pressure he’s using. His gaze is stoic, but Cliff can feel the need that burns in him. He needs Cliff to believe him.

“Yes,” Cliff says quietly, removing the mask. “I do.”

Aiden closes his eyes. He retreats from the pod’s surface, floating aimlessly. “Good. I don’t have many more clear memories I could have shown you. Your kind favors electrocution to try and provoke brain activity, and it’s wreaked havoc on my memories. I can’t remember the last time I laid eyes on my home.”

“Where is your home?”

“Far away,” Aiden whispers. “And very close.”

Then Aiden opens his eyes again, moment of weakness and relief over. He’s as grounded as any battle-hardened soldier now, and it’s strange to see in something with the physical body of a baby.

“They gave you a chiral pod, didn’t they? Is there anything inside?’

Cliff reaches behind him and grasps the chiral pod. It’s got gold on both ends that match the dotted gold of his cufflinks, but the middle is transparent, allowing Cliff to see a small amount faintly glowing golden particles inside. 

“Yes.”

“Chiralium,” Aiden says, almost dreamily. “I’m so hungry, Captain. Please let me have some. Please.”

Cliff looks from the chiral pod to Aiden and back. The chiralium inside looks more like glitter than anything that might be consumed for sustenance, and there isn’t much of it either.

“I’m not human, I don’t eat your sustenance, and I don’t question it,” Aiden snaps. “My kind eat chiralium, and the scientists never fed me because they didn’t want to listen to us speak and only laughed when we begged. Chiralium is poisonous to you, but it can nourish me. Let me have it. Please. I saved your life. All I ask in return is a meal.”

It’s not all Aiden wants, Cliff can feel it, but Aiden has a point. How can he deny Aiden one meal when Aiden saved his life?

So he opens the chiral pod and presses it against the valve, watching as the golden sparks of chiralium float upwards and enter into the pod. When they reach the liquid housing Aiden, he grabs at them like a toddler swiping for a toy and then brings them to his mouth. He swallows them and keeps swallowing until the chiral pod is empty, and then his eyes close as he drifts, fingers twitching.

“Thank you,” Aiden says. “Thank you, Captain.”

Cliff puts the chiral pod away and presses one hand to the BB unit. His hand is so large it dwarfs Aiden’s head, but when Aiden swims up and presses his tiny little hand to Cliff’s, Cliff feels strangely like they’re equals. A life for a life, a secret for a secret, a memory for a memory.

Cliff looks down at Aiden and he says, “You’re welcome.”

* * *

**Chiral network** (noun): _A communications system allowing for the transfer of information and designs over great distances utilizing chiralium and terminals as designed by Bridges scientists_

Cliff reaches the sanctuary soon after that, untroubled by BTs or anything else, and Aiden remains quiet as Cliff deposits the cargo, refills his canteen, and then heads out with more cargo to a new city. It isn’t until they’re far away from the sanctuary that Aiden starts to speak again.

“You didn’t say anything.”

Cliff concentrates on not losing his footing up the steep hills. “No, I didn’t.”

Aiden swims up to the top, tiny hands folded at his sides. “Why not?” His tone is completely curious, absent of all accusation or suspicion. He truly wants to know.

“You’re alive,” Cliff says simply. “Maybe you’re a different form of life than me, but you’re alive. You deserve a fate that isn’t ending up on a dissection table or an incinerator. And you saved my life. I owe you.”

“A life-debt.” Aiden sounds amused. “My kind don’t have them, but I can appreciate them.”

“And what is your kind?”

“We share a parallel world to yours,” Aiden says. “It’s . . . hard to explain. But your kind cross into our world at the end of your life span, and we cross into yours at the beginning of ours. Think of your world as . . . our school. After we pass into adulthood, we enter your world to observe and learn what it is like to be tangible and solid and grounded to the living. It gives our kind an appreciation for yours. And once we have learned enough, we evolve into our final forms and return home to live out the rest of our lives. Once upon a time, your kind witnessed one of us transforming, and you called us werewolves.”

Cliff has to pause at that. “You’ve walked among us for that long?”

“Your kind has a term for the beginning of the universe. The Big Bang, isn’t it? It threw antimatter and matter across the universe. Your kind and your world is made of matter. We are made of antimatter. As long as you have existed, so have we.”

“And you’ve never tried to communicate with us?”

“Sometimes. I’m sure you’ve dreamt of darkness stretching as far as the eye can see, or creatures for which you have no name.”

“You communicate via dreams? But you’re talking to me right now.”

“Yes, I am. But we share a connection,” Aiden points out. “Mentally, we are bound. A part of me lives inside you, now that it touched your lungs and made its way to your heart and mind and soul. And a part of you lives inside me. I don’t need to walk your dreams to speak. I just need to open my mind, now that you’ve learned to listen.”

“And the BTs? They listen to you as well?”

“Yes and no.” 

Aiden goes quiet for a moment, as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts, and when Cliff reaches out with his mind, tentatively thinking at Aiden, it feels rather like squinting into the darkness and just being able to make out the shape of something enormous lurking in the dark.

Yet that something won’t hurt him. It reaches back, cradling Cliff like a blanket swaddling a baby.

“What you call BTs are actually made up of two things,” Aiden says – or perhaps thinks, sending the pictures straight into Cliff’s mind. “There are BTs that are the stranded souls of humans, dragged into my world and unable to cross into the afterlife. Those I can command, because they have a connection just like you do, except their connection was forced upon them without consent. And there are BTs that are my kind – those who reached out when they should not and dragged humans to them as playthings. Those I can command because I am older and stronger. Think of them as . . . teenagers.”

“Teenagers,” Cliff repeats skeptically, remembering the decimation of Manhattan. 

“Hmm. They haven’t learned control yet, how to rein in their impulses and think straight and take only what they need. It used to be that the travel of my kind to your world was carefully regulated and controlled, and only those mature enough to make the crossing were allowed. But when your government began meddling, they took the oldest among us first. Now anyone can cross over, and they’re just teenagers, showing off and taking what they want, the consequences be damned.”

And, well, put that way, Cliff can see it. Teenagers might add Mentos to a Coca Cola bottle just to see what happens, or light a firework way too close to a building. It’s just that Aiden’s kind of teenagers have a power that causes craters instead of fires.

Cliff puts a hand on the side of the pod, feeling the soft vibration as Aiden reaches out. “How did they catch you?”

“Because you can lie.”

“What? You can’t?”

“No. I am what I am. There’s no need to lie in my world. A scientist found one of us and he lied to us and we believed him. And we have . . . I guess the best approximation in your language is a hive mind. What one knows, we all know. So many of us went to the scientist, wondering if we could start a communication between our worlds, and we were obstructed from leaving due to some oxygen tanks. After that, they started trapping us in highly oxygenated liquid – just like the liquid in my pod.”

 _Most cease to function after a year or so,_ Cliff remembers Cheeseman saying. If oxygen is poisonous to them, no wonder they’d started to die.

“Another lie,” Aiden says, picking up on the memory. “We just begin to tolerate the oxygen levels and regain our strength, just like you might form a callus and begin to push past the pain. And then that’s when they dispose of us and go out to catch more.”

“I thought you had a hive mind. You can’t warn them?”

“We’re trapped in these pods. I can’t touch any of my kind – not those in your world, and not those in mine. I can only get across the most basic of information, and teenagers aren’t inclined to play messenger . . . or to heed my warnings.”

Cliff feels around the edge. He can tell that the pod wasn’t built around Aiden, so there must be seams. There aren’t as many as he expects, but his fingers eventually find them.

“What if I took you out?” Cliff asks quietly.

He can tell it’s a very tempting thought for Aiden. Aiden even turns around a couple times in the pod before he finally answers.

“Best not to,” Aiden says finally. “It would definitely set off an alarm, and you’d be hunted, and they’d put me back in a pod. I need to build up my strength. And I need to figure out how to get home so we can stop this whole mess. Will you help me, Cliff?”

The words strike a chord in Cliff. He remembers a young woman – Lisa, she’d said her was – begging him for assistance, after an earthquake had trapped her and several others under a building. The military had dug for hours to reach the survivors, yelling questions down to them to try and approximate their location. Cliff had called his name down, trying to keep Lisa motivated, and she had yelled back, _Will you help me, Cliff?_

He’d said yes, of course.

Lisa is currently braindead in a hospital. Too much time had passed as they’d dug. He used to visit her once a year.

Cliff curls his fingers around the pod and holds Aiden close. “Yes. I will.”

He won’t let Aiden be another Lisa.

Gratitude flows through their mental connection, and Cliff can swear that he feels it strengthening, one strand between them becoming another and another and another until it becomes a rope, thick and strong and _powerful_.

After that, making deliveries is easy. It’s physically hard, of course, and Cliff ends up covered in dirt and grime, but Aiden teaches Cliff how to differentiate between a human BT and one of Aiden’s kin, and more importantly, he teaches him how to communicate with them. It’s not long before Cliff can command a human BT to back away the second Aiden senses it coming close. Timefall is still annoying, but that too is part of Aiden’s world, so as long as Aiden is close by he can absorb its effects and prevent it from harming Cliff. And the more chiralium Cliff gathers and feeds to Aiden, the stronger Aiden grows – and the more Cliff dreams of Aiden’s world, an eternal landscape of sand and waves crashing upon the shore.

Yet no matter how much stronger Aiden gets, he still tells Cliff to keep him trapped inside the pod. He wants to be as strong as possible for their escape, so he tends to go back to sleep and feign docility whenever they enter a Bridges facility. 

Cliff gets used to feeling Aiden quietly resting in the back of his mind while he drops off cargo and accepts new orders, and it helps him remember to keep his mouth shut.

This all changes, however, when the Commander appears in the middle of a routine order.

“Commander,” Cliff says, straightening. 

“Hello, Captain. You’ve been doing good work. I know you were planning to head out as soon as possible, which is commendable – you truly live up to your reputation of being incredibly hard working. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to impose on you to rest here for one night.”

“Has something come up?” Cliff asks, struggling to remain composed when really he wants to cradle Aiden close. Ever since he and Aiden formed their connection, he’s never spent more than a few hours in a Bridges facility, to lessen the risk of anyone realizing Aiden is conscious and that they speak all the time.

“In a manner of speaking. You know as well as I do that our current communication network isn’t very stable. Our scientists recently made a breakthrough, and they’ve developed plans for much better and more stable network. We would like you to begin assisting in its set up.”

“How can I help?”

“You’ll be adding this to your gear,” the Commander answers, holding up a necklace that has half a dozen grey rectangles dangling from it. “It contains the software that we’ll use as the foundation. We need to make sure it’s compatible and stable, so take it out for a test run. Once we get confirmation that it works, we’ll start sending it out with all of our porters to expand the network.”

Cliff can’t help be skeptical of that statement, and he doesn’t even need to know about the shadiness of the government’s treatment of Aiden to be skeptical. The reason communication is so unstable is due to the Timefall and other BT interruptions – new software won’t fix that.

“That sounds a lot like covering the world in cable,” Cliff says. “And that system was corrupted by the Timefall and voidouts.”

“They were,” the Commander acknowledges. “But this network will be built on chiralium, which doesn’t degrade due to Timefall. We are calling it the chiral network.”

At those words, Aiden goes from quietly interested to outright alarmed, and Cliff only barely manages to smoothly move his arm forward to block the sight of Aiden’s eyes opening for the first time in a Bridges facility, definitely signaling his consciousness.

“Any questions?” the Commander asks. “No? Then you’re dismissed, Captain.”

* * *

**The Beach** (noun): _The limbo place between life and death, which was revealed to humans after the Death Stranding_

It’s a real struggle to walk calmly back to his private room, but Cliff does it. He knows if he runs, more suspicion will land on him, and he’s already been asked a few times – innocently, by Velvet and Cheeseman, and quite less innocently by the Commander – why he rarely attaches his BB to the soothing equipment for recalibration and monitoring. So far he’s gotten away with lying that his BB isn’t very active and therefore he’d rather spend his valuable time delivering orders, but he can’t ignore a direct order to rest in his private room so that his newest piece of gear can be fabricated.

Aiden, meanwhile, is a bubbling, pulsing mass of alarm and stress in the back of his mind, so Cliff undresses on autopilot and walks into the shower.

It’s the one place in a Bridges facility where they won’t be overheard or noticed if they talk. 

“Aiden?” Cliff asks, letting the water wash over them both. “What’s wrong?”

Aiden is actually doing somersaults right now, one after another, turning over and over and over so fast Cliff almost feels motion sick just from watching him. In their mental connection, Aiden is just as stressed, wrapping himself in their connection like a toddler grabs a blanket and bunches it up in their fists.

“Aiden,” Cliff says quietly, and he lowers himself to sit on the bottom of the shower, curling around Aiden and pressing his forehead and fingers to the glass. “Aiden. Talk to me.”

Slowly, moment by moment, he feels Aiden begin to calm. The frantic somersaults stop, and Aiden swims up to press against him.

“A chiral network,” he says, voice heavy with grief, “can’t be built out just chiralium. It would take many of my kind used as conduits to transmit information, with chiralium wired into them to keep them alive but just barely. And it would quite possibly spell the end of both of our worlds.”

“Why?”

“You’ve seen what happens when my kind are allowed free range into your world. They kill indiscriminately, and their victims cause voidouts. And that’s just using the one pathway between our worlds. Imagine now a chiral network, forcing that pathway wide open until it is a seam between our worlds. Just imagine how many will die.”

Cliff doesn’t need to imagine it – the ideas have taken root in Aiden’s mind, and they march across their connection to flood into Cliff’s. He can see the seam, as golden and fiery as the sun, cracking apart the space between their worlds until Aiden’s kind pour into the human world and humans pour into Aiden’s world, leading to more chiralium and Timefall in the human world and more oxygen and scientists in Aiden’s until at last the boundaries between the worlds collapse altogether.

And then _boom_.

“Antimatter and matter merged together can only lead to devastation,” Aiden says.

“Not devastation,” Cliff says. “Extinction.”

“Yes.” Aiden opens his eyes. “We can’t wait any longer for me to regain strength. We need to leave now. I must warn my kin that an invasion is coming. If we wait until that chiral network key is ready, we may not be able to find a way to stop the network – or the extinction.”

Cliff sighs. “This facility houses the main base for Bridges security. Getting out won’t be easy.”

“But you’ll do it.”

“For you, I’ll do it,” Cliff agrees.

Cliff waits until nightfall, where the hallways are mostly empty and the lack of light makes it hard to spot anything. It’s very difficult to take off his cufflinks, but eventually he forces his hand out under the shower, using the water and soap to aid him, and he clips it around the equipment that usually monitors Aiden when they rest. That will cause a feedback of false data and buy them some time.

The only downside is, of course, without his cuffs, he can’t just walk out the door. The doors only respond to the identifiers in cufflinks, after all.

So Cliff has to creep down the hallways, trying to find a door he can force open, the most frustrating thing is that he can feel most starting to give way but usually has to abandon the attempt because he or Aiden hears a security patrol coming. It’s his first time in this base, so he has no idea what the patrol pattern is, and he gets by mostly on pure luck.

Eventually, though, his luck runs out. He’s spotted, and the soldiers – seeing a man dressed in black civilian clothes and clutching a pod to his chest – decide to shoot first and ask questions later.

It’s very difficult to fight back whilst holding Aiden, so Cliff runs from the soldiers, but the fact that he doesn’t kill them means they’re alive to trigger the alarm system.

Ten minutes later, Cliff is trapped in a tiny, dark room of a dead end, bleeding from two bullets and watching as soldiers start trying to break the door open.

There’s no way out now.

Cliff closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, Aiden. I messed up. I’m so sorry.”

Aiden’s reply is cut off by the _bang_ as the soldiers finally burst through the door, and they too shoot before asking questions, so when all the ringing in his ears fades, Cliff finds himself lying on the ground, wheezing and cold as the pool of blood grows beneath him.

“What a disappointment you are, Captain,” comes the cool voice of the Director. 

Cliff ignores her. He has nothing to say to her, since nothing will change her mind. His only focus is Aiden right now. “I’m sorry, Aiden. I was so scared, when I learned you weren’t human and were in my mind. But that wasn’t true fear. True fear . . . is . . .”

“Leaving me all alone,” Aiden completes quietly. He presses those tiny hands against the pod, eyes fixed on Cliff. “Take me out of the pod, Cliff.”

“But – ”

“Do it.”

So when the soldiers wrestle the pod away, Cliff doesn’t stop them. As if from a great distance, he hears the horrified gasp when the Director grabs it and realizes that it is empty, and through the ringing in his ears he hears the Commander cock his gun and order him to hand over Aiden or else.

He wants to laugh. _Or else._ There’s nothing else they can do to Cliff now.

He cradles Aiden close. “I’m so sorry.”

Aiden’s hand is so, so soft against his own. “I’m sorry too,” Aiden whispers. “But you helped. You understood. You tried. That’s enough.”

“Not enough to stop what’s coming.”

“Maybe it is.” Aiden wriggles in his hands until he closes his tiny fingers around one of Cliff’s. His grip is amazingly tight. “I think I can send you on, Cliff, to warn my kind in my place. Our connection might be strong enough. Even if my world is sealed off forever to stop the extinction, I don’t mind being trapped if it means our worlds will live.”

Cliff squeezes back. “I don’t want to leave you,” he confesses, voice no louder than a breath. Aiden is part of his mind now; he can hardly remember what it’s like to not have Aiden in the back of his mind and in the corner of his soul.

“You’ll leave me anyways. You’re dying. But this way, your death might have purpose. And just maybe . . . just maybe you’ll be able to stop this.”

Aiden opens his eyes, and they’re dark, like swirling pools of night that will swallow Cliff whole. Slowly, the pain begins to fade out, as do the colors and sounds of the world, until all that is left is the sensation of Aiden’s body cradled in Cliff’s hands, warm and tangible and _his_.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Aiden says, “on the Beach.”

And then Cliff knows no more.

* * *

**Cupid** (noun): _Unknown species, unknown designation, unknown lifeform; currently under study to determine if aliens, or a lifeform formerly undiscovered in this world, or something else altogether_

Life in Aiden’s world – the Beach – is different and strange and hard, harder than climbing over mountains or trekking up hills or wading through streams. But Cliff wasn’t a captain in the military for nothing; he grits his teeth and pushes onwards, straining every muscle and sense forward to master what Aiden had begun to taught him.

He learns how to navigate the Beach, how to dodge tar pits that are holes back to the human world, and how to command stranded humans to assist him. The mental connection is brusque, nothing like the honeyed sweetness and silky softness of his connection to Aiden, but he needs help, and these stranded human are better off with him than they are with their BT masters; he, at least, doesn’t torment them, and when they tire he sends him toddling into the waves to pass into the afterlife.

Finally, he reaches the heart of Beach, where a fiery sun never sets and a glowing moon peeks out on the other side, and dozens of Aiden’s kind cluster in their version of a government.

They all look rather like Aiden, in a way, but Cliff can’t truly perceive them completely. They’re kind of like spectral babies, floating in the air and connected to the Beach via long glimmering umbilical cords.

When he approaches, a whisper takes root and begins to multiply: “A human, a human, a human.”

Cliff clears his throat. “I was bonded to Aiden.”

Slowly, the whispers of alarm die. He knows that most of them are wary of humanity, these elders who control the Beach and are trying to figure out why so many of their kind are missing now and not returning from their travels to the human world, but he also knows that they can gauge the truth of his words from the echoes of his bond from Aiden. It’s fractured now, but the edges still stand there as proof of his words.

One baby drifts close. “We are the Cupids. This is our world, and not yours. Why would Aiden send you here? To bond is one thing; to introduce them to our sanctuary and teach our secrets is quite another.”

“Aiden sent me to warn you. I – ”

“And he couldn’t come himself? What did you do to him, human?”

“I did nothing,” Cliff answers. “But my people, my kind – they did. They trapped him, and all the ones you’re missing. They’re planning to use chiralium and their hostages to form a chiral network and force a seam between your world and mine. Aiden wanted to tell you himself, but we were caught.”

Another baby comes close. It studies him, eyes unblinking. “Your own kind killed you,” it says.

It’s not a question.

“I was willing to die for Aiden,” Cliff answers simply. Even now, his only regret is that he left Aiden behind, and the connections he’s built to these stranded humans are the only self-comfort he can allow himself. They’re just pale imitations, but they’re all he has in this world.

The Cupids don’t question him further. Cliff doesn’t stop them as they reach into his mind, following down the connection Aiden forged, and as soon as one knows, they all know.

“A chiral network,” one says.

“An invasion,” says another.

“An extinction,” they all conclude as one.

“Aiden said you might be able to stop it,” Cliff says. “Can you?”

Whispers rustle through the Cupids again. There’s a lot of emotions, some Cliff can name and some far behind his understanding. He’s reminded again that he’s just one human, now in the land of the Beach and the mercy of the Cupids who call it home, and they are a life form completely unlike his.

“Not completely unlike us,” one baby says, drifting to float in front of his eye line. “Aiden began a process of metamorphosis when he bound himself to you, and you have embraced it wholeheartedly. Otherwise, you would have passed through the Beach like every other human.”

“What are you saying?”

“We’re not sure. You are unlike anything we have ever experienced. Part human, part Cupid – you speak to us and to humans, and you walk in the line between our life and human life. Perhaps . . . Perhaps if we sent you back, you might be able to help us stop the extinction from your side as well as from ours.”

Hope blooms in Cliff’s chest. It’s faint, but it starts to blossom with each word.

“I can go back? And find Aiden?”

A sea of spectral nods. “You are bound to the Beach, but you’re also bound to the human world. We think you can go back.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry. We know the way.” As one, the babies begin to rise, until they all point towards the crashing waves at the edge of the Beach. “Follow the waves home, Captain Clifford Unger. Free our people, stop this extinction – and reclaim your Aiden.”

It’s a long trek back from the heart of the Beach to the waves, but Cliff takes a deep breath, gathers his soldiers close, and then plunges down.

The water is neither hot nor cold, and when it fills Cliff’s throat it feels remarkably like the oxygenated liquid from Aiden’s pod. Either way, it brings the world into sharper focus, bringing forth color and sound and sight, and when he bursts through the surface, gasping for air and disorientated, his soldiers drag him forward using the cords that bind them to him until he reaches solid ground. When he catches his breath, he finds himself at the edge of a tar pit – the kind he used to see BTs emerge from. 

And when he looks around, he finds himself back in the human world – with a man wearing a Bridges uniform and Aiden hooked up to his chest staring at him in shock.

Cliff pushes himself back to his feet, breathes in the fresh human air again, and prepares himself to make war.

Surprisingly, though, it only takes a short fight before the man – Sam Porter Bridges – gets close enough for Aiden to sense Cliff and start to burble in his pod. The man has only a crude gun, because Bridges apparently started equipping their porters, but he hesitates when he hears Aiden cooing and somersaulting in his pod.

“Are you the father? The guy in his memories?”

Cliff reaches out. “No. But he is mine, and I am his. Please give him back.”

“And what will you do to him?”

“Bring him home,” Cliff answers simply. “And stop this Death Stranding before it causes the extinction.”

“Home? But he’s a BB.”

“Yes. But he’s so much more than that. If you glimpsed some of his memories, then you would know that. He’s a Cupid, and I need to bring him home. Give him to me.”

Sam Porter Bridges hesitates again, but when Cliff has his soldiers stand down, he eventually concedes to cautiously edge closer and hand Aiden over. The sensation of holding Aiden in his arms again is sweet, sweet relief, and Cliff hardly waits a moment before he cracks open the pod and takes Aiden out. He props Aiden up against his neck, cradling him close, and they both shudder when their mental connection surges to life again, their minds rushing at each other and blending until there’s no separation between Cliff and Aiden, human and Cupid.

“Hello, Aiden,” Cliff says.

“Hello, Cliff,” Aiden says. “You did it.”

“Yes, I did. And now it’s time to go home.”

Aiden wriggles in his hands. “Yes, it is,” he says. “The Director ordered the destruction of the rest of my kind, so I am the last of the Cupids here. The few remaining BB units are merely mindless clones, and they’ll stop working as soon as we seal off our world. Which I can advise our kind on how to do, now that I know how they forced the pathway open. And besides – I’ve had enough of this world. I’m ready to evolve. So let’s go home.”

“Let’s go home,” Cliff echoes, and this time he’s ready for when the human world fades out and he gasps awake on the Beach.

He is not ready, however, for Aiden to no longer be in his hands.

“Aiden? Aiden! Aiden!”

_Shh. I’m here._

“Where?” Cliff scrambles to his feet and looks around. He sees no one and nothing – not the stranded humans, not the Cupids, and definitely not Aiden. “Where are you?”

_Right here._

Hot breath washes over Cliff’s neck, and that sense of something huge lurking in the darkness rises again in Cliff’s chest. Slowly, very slowly, he manages to turn himself around, half filled with terror and half brimming with anticipation.

Aiden is a baby no longer. Now he is a massive creature, black as the tar and with eyes that glow like chiralium, with four legs and two antlers and a thick coat of fur and wings tucked neatly along his spine.

“Aiden?”

The massive creature snorts, but in a friendly way. He butts up against Cliff’s chest like a cat seeks a pet from a human hand. _My true final form._

“Then why the hell do we call you Cupids?”

The form blurs, coalescing into a small baby-sized blur, before it expands and settles into the form of a crouching young man, smiling, with perfectly white teeth and brown curls. The only connection between it and the creature of before are the wings are still expand from his back, feathered like a bird but infinitely bigger.

“I didn’t say that the ravenstag was my _only_ true form,” the man says, and Cliff startles to hear Aiden’s voice coming from this man’s body. “Sometimes we liked to assume human forms as well. Well, human-ish,” he amends, stretching his massive wings. “Do you like it?”

Cliff swallows. “I like you any way I can get.”

Aiden smiles, stalking forward as gracefully as a cat on the prowl. He seems completely unbothered by his nakedness – but then again, he’s not human. Being without human clothes probably means nothing to him.

“Clothes are just so . . . bothersome,” Aiden whispers, coming to a stop right in front of him. “I prefer you without them.”

“Is that a demand?” 

“More of an observation, freely shared. Take it any way you wish.”

“Because I’m yours?”

Aiden dips his head in agreement. When he reaches out to grasp Cliff’s shoulders, warmth blossoms from the points of contact, like they’re touching for the first time all over again. The Beach begins to fade out again, but not like he’s traveling – more like all of his focus is on Aiden, and rightly so.

“Yes, you’re mine. And I am yours. Forever and ever.”

“Forever and ever,” Cliff agrees.

They seal it with a kiss.

* * *

**Death Stranding** (noun): *This definition has been corrected since the last time it was viewed* _An event that disrupted the boundaries between life and death due to human interference in the world of the Beach, initially manifesting in simultaneous massive explosions, Timefall that aged anything it touched, and chiralium that poisoned the air, earth, and water around it, but was eventually ended due to the heroic efforts of Captain Clifford Unger and Sam Porter Bridges_

FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: After that Cliff and Aiden seal off the seam between their world and the human world, so the Death Stranding stops, and Sam spreads the word so the government stops messing with Aiden's kind. Then Cliff and Aiden live together happily ever after.
> 
> Find me @ Telegram as TheSilverQueen : [Pillowfort as TheSilverQueen](https://www.pillowfort.social/thesilverqueen) : [Tumblr as thesilverqueenlady](http://thesilverqueenlady.tumblr.com) : [Twitter as silverqueenlady](https://twitter.com/silverqueenlady) : [NewTumbl as thesilverqueen](https://thesilverqueen.newtumbl.com/) : [Dreamwidth as thesilverqueenlady](https://thesilverqueenlady.dreamwidth.org/)


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